Lonely Streets
by DazeWaiting
Summary: Inspired by Warriors; this story follows the life of a street cat as he struggles to survive in a run-down town.


Chapter 1:

Rain hammered down onto the pavement in thick sheets, churning and swirling into gathered puddles and streams that washed away the grit and grime. A small creature was huddled up underneath the shelter of an old, crumbling porch; a black and white cat with soaked and plastered fur, yellow eyes narrowed as he stared out into the monsoon and shivered. The rain had come down fast and there was little place the tom could take refuge in other than where he sat now. This porch that he hid under was also connected to the home the humans he visited lived, but it had been days since they had let him out and they hadn't let him back in since. He tried once again in a desperate attempt to contact them as he crawled out from his hiding place and darted onto the porch. The rain battered his pelt and caused him to shake and sneeze as he started yowling and scratching at the door to call out the attention of the residents here. No answer, nothing. He would keep yowling for as much as he could, but there had never been any answer before; not even a creak of the door to let him see the warm light inside.

The tom narrowed his eyes and retreated back to his hideout, his tail hanging in defeat and dismay. It had rained nonstop for the past days that he had been stuck outside, and he had difficulty finding anything to eat. His surroundings were all streets and old buildings of a small town, a dreary place with small abandoned buildings, run-down houses and little activity. There was very little cover from plants or anything of that sort in this area, and so the tom had made nests in anyplace he could find that would hide him; boxes, porches, and holes in walls… it was difficult finding a place that wouldn't soon be discovered and that felt entirely safe and comfortable. This home with the humans had been the closest thing to comfort he could find, and now it looked like he was no longer welcome inside.

"I need to find food and a better shelter," The tom thought to himself out loud as he flinched back from a small trickle of water leaking down the rubble of the porch. He hated the prospect of moving, as he often needed to. He was nothing but a traveling stray who constantly had to fight to survive, find food and good shelter. There were other cats; tougher and larger cats, who would much rather shred his pelt than let him anywhere near their line of sight, and that made it all the more difficult to travel alone in unknown areas. Cats around here never really got along with one another. Strangers were never welcome.

The sky had begun rumbling up above, shaking the ground beneath the tom's paws in an angry vibration. He shrunk down, and then fled as the first flash of light ripped across the sky and illuminated the drowned streets in an unearthly white light. Storms, he hated storms, but this was one he was going to have to run through if he were to expect to find anything closer to helping him survive. He raced across pavement, trying not to recoil and shake as the cold, unpleasant water ran through his fur and splashed across his paws, and headed for the village town. The buildings there were gray, dark and silent at this time, if any were owned and operated at all. He knew that few were occupied with humans, because their scents were usually stale from the doorways and their rackets never sounded from among the walls. Thinking fast, he headed for the first building and huddled at the front near the door, where an old, sagging awning was roofed and still managing to keep much of the rain from reaching the porch. The tom sat for a moment and breathed, enjoying the relief of the dry concrete beneath his paws and the lack of water whipping into his eyes and whiskers. He wished to stay here longer, but still his unease reminded him that he had not found the place to rest. Though unlikely right now, humans came across the street too often, and so did their loud, rumbling monsters and their large canines with gleaming teeth and loose collars. He would not feel safe until he knew he was out of sight from them completely.

"It's going to be a long sun-down if I have to keep at it like this," he thought with a flick of his tail as he eyed the waterfall of rain coming from the clouds. He slunk closer to the door to move back from it, but was then surprised by a cold draft that seemed to be moving from behind him and causing the wet fur to prickle along his spine. Intrigued, he whipped his head around and sniffed, soon realizing that the door was open just a tiny crack and enough for him to push his nose through. His muzzle caused the door to slide creakily open some more, until he could squirm his way in the rest of the way and retreat into the dark opening that led inside.

It was dark, lit only by the bleak light shining in from the front windows. The air smelled stuffy and stale with dust, old rotting wood and the long-since faded scent of human. The rain pounded like a chorus of rocks on the roof, which dripped and leaked in some places, but for the most part the tom found this shelter to be quiet and surprisingly secure for how quickly he had chanced upon it. He sniffed around and found what remained of a wooden cabinet with two doors; though one of the doors was unhinged and lying broken beside it. Tentatively, he took a step in and circled, before finding a spot behind the closed door and curling up. Here he was hidden, safe, and warm for now, and as soon as he had rested he could go on a hunt for food. His stomach rumbled already at him louder than before, cursing his inability to find anything out in this rain and on the cold streets, but he tried greatly to ignore that right now. He was lucky to be here at all and safe for now. There wasn't any creature that he thought would come inside the broken human building, unlike the tiny porch he had huddled under before, and he was out of the rain and wind. He groomed the water out of his pelt and washed his paws of mud, before sinking and drifting off to sleep with a small purr rumbling in his throat.

He twitched his paws, submersed in his own dreams and nightmares at once...

There was a crow that was sitting on the old crumbling porch he had been hiding beneath earlier. It tilted its head and soon began mocking him with cries.

"You hungry?!" It asked, its beady eyes gleaming snidely as it flapped its wings. "Cat is hungry? Cat not eat in long time? Ha- Caw caw!" The crow lifted its head and laughed in its own odd, cawing way. "Some cat is you. Some cat is you! Can't catch me, I think not! Caw!" The bird hopped from one foot to the other and pecked the ground at its feet as it dislodged a pebble, then tossed it to the side.

The tom glared at it, his eyes narrowed, "You talk a lot for a small bird! In fact, I don't remember birds being able to talk- but enough of that! I'm hungry, you see? I will show you!" He sunk down to a hunter's crouch with his tail waving back and forth, ears flattened and muscles tensed as he prepared to spring.

"Caw caw- ha! So you think, so you say! Hungry? Come and get me, kitty! We know you can't," The bird's wings were outstretched and eyes focused on him challengingly. It was making no inclination of moving, and even seemed to be ready for him to pounce.

"Graa-!" The tom sprang and leaped into the air in flash of claws. His eyes were focused on the bird's and he was falling for it, landing and aiming a blow right at the bird's neck…

But no, the bird was now shifting and growing, and soon it wasn't a bird at all. There was a strange, loud growl to be heard as the tom came face-to-face, gaze-to-gaze with another pair of cat-like eyes narrowed into slits. He was looking up at a white battle-scarred tom, much bigger than him in size, snarling with gleaming fangs as he let down a heavy claw of his own, and threw the tom back into darkness...

The tom shifted blearily against the corner of the wooden cabinet as he began to come to; the light patter of rain rousing him from his dream. There was something else as well; a low, long growl that broke the emptiness of the room.

Scrambling, the tom leapt up and froze with pricked ears, eyes alert in the darkness of his hiding place. Peering out of the open door, he could see another pair of eyes staring him down from across the center of the room; the outline of a cat shadowed from beneath a broken chair, ears also alert, and tail bristling as it swished across the ground. Swish, swish… it was like a timer. The tom recognized that movement, for it meant that the cat was going to strike whenever it decided to, and soon. Swish, swish, and still the eyes stared unblinking, full of anger, and the hostile growl rose once again from its throat.

The tom stiffened and his hackles rose. In here, he may as well be trapped. If he managed to get out of the cabinet and make a dash for it, he would still have to make it across the room and to the door to escape; his only known exit. The hostile cat was sure to catch him by then. It looked like the only way out, was going to be to fight.


End file.
